we both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love?
by shelivesfree
Summary: Rhythmic Gymnast Padme Naberrie has dreamed of being an Olympian since she was five years old. Now, after years and years of training and preparations, she's finally made it to Rio, and nothing is going to stand in the way between her and a gold medal. Except a certain Canadian beach volleyball player, perhaps.


**Title:** _we both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love?_

 **Genre:** Romance

 **Rating:** M

 **Characters:** Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker

 **Synopsis:** Rhythmic gymnast Padme Naberrie has dreamed of being an Olympian since she was five years old. Now, after years and years of training and preparations, she's finally made it to Rio, and nothing is going to stand in the way between her and a gold medal. Except a certain Canadian beach volleyball player, perhaps.

 **Author's Note:** So, if you're like me and the Olympics has been taking over your life, then this should be right up your ally. Or, if not, but you still love fluffy Anidala, then this should also be up your ally. I was inspired, obviously, by the Rio Games. And I was hit with this thought - what if Anakin and Padme were Olympians? And then, this happened. I hope you like it (P.S. Aussie pride! GREEN AND GOLD!).

Title taken from _Touch It_ by Ariana Grande.

 _Please review! :)_

* * *

 _we both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love?_

 _..._

This is it. She made it. After years and years of rigorous, gruelling training, of blood, sweat, and tears, Padme is _here._ At the 2016 Rio de Janerio Olympic Games. It's something she's strived for her entire life, and now that she's actually _here_ , she can hardly believe it. Her eyes well up with emotion as she stands with her fellow gymnasts and their coaches, garbed in their Team USA track suits, in the middle of the Rio airport. _She did it._

Her brown eyes are wide with awe as she glances beside her at her fellow teammate and friend, Sabe, who is just as awestruck as she feels. Sabe reaches for her hand and gives it a firm squeeze, and Padme breaks out into a wide grin.

" _We_ _'_ _re here,_ " Sabe whispers excitedly, her voice trembling with the emotion of it all.

Nodding, Padme wipes her eyes with her other hand and beams at her friend. " _We_ _'_ _re here._ "

She and Sabe have trained together since they were five years old, and Padme wouldn't have wanted another person beside her in this moment. _This,_ truly, is the greatest moment of her entire life. A dream come true. Not only is she competing in the largest international sporting event in the world, but she is also representing the country that she loves. It's any American's dream, and Padme feels entirely grateful to have been given this rare opportunity.

The team collect their bags and follow their coaches and managers out to where the transport vans are waiting to take them to the Athlete's Village. Excited chatter erupts amongst the girls as they pile into the appropriate vehicles. Team USA consists of seven rhythmic gymnasts, two individual performances, and a five-person group, the oldest being 22, and the youngest being just 17. Padme and Sabe, both 19 years old, were too young to be selected for the London Games in 2012, so they are just as excited to be going to their first Olympics as young Riyo Chuchi.

When they arrive at the Athlete's Village, they are allocated their rooms. To her delight, Padme and Sabe are to share a room, and they eagerly unpack, gushing over the incredulity of it all. Their room is a twin share, with two single beds, a single wardrobe, and a tiny bathroom. But, Padme doesn't care about how small it is, because the view is _incredible_. Rio is such a beautiful place, and she feels so _blessed_ to be here.

She FaceTime's her parents once she's finished unpacking her things. Her sister, Sola, is over at their parent's house, along with her husband, Darred, and their two young daughters, and the six of them crowd around the tiny screen, trying to get in their two cents worth. Her mother is crying and wiping her eyes, and her father tells her how _proud_ of her he is, and it's not long before Padme, too, is sobbing, as she gives them a view of where she'll be living for the next three weeks. All she needs is her family's loving support, and hearing them praise her is _all_ the motivation she needs.

That night, Padme can't sleep. Her mind is active, constantly rehearsing her performance routine over and over again. The bed is small and uncomfortable, and it will take her some time to get used to it. Her blood pulses with excitement and nerves, and when she eventually falls asleep, somewhere around 2 am, it's with a small grin on her face.

Padme is an Olympian. Her biggest dream has finally come true.

* * *

"You looked _great_ out there!" Sabe praises her as Padme walks off the floor, to grab her water bottle and wipe her face off with her towel.

Padme smiles and nods her head at the praise. Her routine is one she's been working on for almost two years and she's pretty sure she's perfected it now. Of course, nothing is certain come performance day, but Padme feels confident in her routine and her skill. There's _definitely_ a chance she could bring home a medal, and the thought makes her almost giddy with anticipation.

"Thanks," Padme grins at her friend and sits down on the floor, stretching out her legs. "Let's just hope it's enough." Having competed at the World Championships several times, Padme knows _just_ who she's up against. The Russian and Chinese gymnasts are her biggest competition, but if she manages to perform her routine flawlessly, she still stands a chance.

Sabe goes off to rehearse the group routine, leaving Padme to stretch on the floor. She watches them, admiring the synchronisation, particularly with the ribbon. Padme favours the ball over the ribbon and hoop. It's what she feels most comfortable with. And she's definitely _not_ fond of group routines. She finds it easier to perform alone than to rely on other people. Her friend, however, adores group routines. She loves the team morale and the feeling of sharing her victory with her closest friends, and whilst Padme doesn't feel the same, she can still understand and appreciate that.

Once the group performance is completed, Dorme, the other individual competitor, heads out onto the floor for her rehearsal. As the oldest in the team, this is her second Olympics, having competed at London in 2012. Padme admires her in awe, she's so fluid and graceful in her movements, as though the ribbon is an extension of her arm, and her routine is nearly _flawless._ When she's finished, she sits beside Padme and stretches out her long limbs.

"Hey, girl," Dorme greets her casually. "You're looking good out there."

Hearing praise from the most experienced gymnast in the team makes Padme blush fiercely. "Thank you," she said. "So are you!"

"So, how does it feel to be at your first Olympics?" The older girl asks with a grin, as she leans forward over her legs, reaching her arms out as far as they can go.

The answering grin on Padme's face is almost maddening. " _Incredible!_ " She exclaims, excitedly. "I can't _believe_ I'm actually here. It's a bit surreal, y'know?"

Dorme nods her head with a reminiscent smile. "I know _exactly_ what you mean. I felt that way four years ago at my first Olympics. It's something else, isn't it?"

Padme agrees, and the two girls continue to stretch together until their coach tells them to head back to the Athlete's village for a shower.

* * *

The atmosphere is positively _electric_. Padme has never seen anything like it. The Brazilians certainly know how to throw a party, and Padme watches in awe of the dancers and performers and the lights the set the entire room aglow. Her blood is pulsing in time with the music, loudly in her ears, her heart is bashing against her ribcage heavily...

When it's time for the United States of America to walk out into Marana Stadium during the Parade of Nations in the Opening Ceremony, Padme grips Sabe's and Dorme's hands tightly, head held high as she wears her national colours with pride. The tremendous _roar_ that erupts throughout the arena is deafening as the American team, led by flagbearer, swimmer Michael Phelps, walks into view of the crowd, but Padme has never felt more _alive._ She raises both of her hands, cheering and shouting and waving up at the adoring crowd. There are 555 athletes competing for the USA at the Rio Games, and to be one of them is so surreal, Padme still struggles to comprehend it.

And, then the Olympic torch is lit, by Brazilian long distance runner Vanderlei Cordeiro de Lima, symbolising the start of the games, and it's only _then_ that it finally sinks in.

 _She_ _'_ _s finally at the Olympics._

* * *

When she's not training or preparing for her events, which don't start for another three days, Padme goes along with some of the girls from her team to watch the different sports events. It's how she stumbles across the men's beach volleyball – a sport she's never really had much experience with. She and the girls, still in their Team USA tracksuits with their team passes and ID's around their necks, sit down at the back of the outdoor arena to watch the current game; Canada versus Austria.

It's a fast paced game, full of strength and raw power, and Padme watches in awe for a moment, as they volley the ball back and forth over the net at a rapid fire pace. She doesn't understand the rules, and it's not even her own country playing, but her eyes soon become transfixed by one of the Canadian players. He's tall, she can gather that even from the significant distance where she's sitting in the stands, with sun kissed, tanned skin, dark blonde curly hair and, she has to admit, an impressive physique. Not as broad and stocky as her fellow male gymnasts, but lean, lithe, athletic, his muscles rippling gracefully - yet _powerfully_ with every movement.

Her face grows hot when she watches him douse water over his head during a timeout, the bright sunlight sparkling in the water droplets as he shakes his now wet hair, and her tongue snakes out to wet her lips subconsciously. She's unsure _why_ her body is reacting this way – it's not as though she hasn't seen an attractive man before. She _has_. The entire USA Olympic team is _full_ of attractive male athletes. So, why does this random Canadian beach volleyballer stir such arousing feelings deep inside her?

Beside her, Dorme nudges her in the ribs and issues a low whistle. "You've got fine taste, girlfriend," she teases with a wink, following Padme's gaze.

Her cheeks redden in embarrassment at being caught perving on an unsuspecting stranger. "I don't know what you mean," she brushes off the comment shyly. Dorme only rolls her eyes and smirks, but Padme ignores her and refocuses her attention back on the game.

The Canadians win, defeating the Austrians 2-1, and Padme stands up along with the rest of the crowd, clapping her hands and cheering on the victors. Her attention is solely focused on the tall, blonde, attractive one, and her heart skips a beat as he shoots a blinding grin up to the stands and punches his hand in the air, victoriously. Of course, he's not directing it at _her._ His family are probably in the crowd. But, in that moment, all Padme is aware of is _him_ and his beautiful, dazzling smile.

She claps all the harder.

* * *

"You should totally go and watch the men's beach volleyball again," Dorme tells her with a smirk, during one of their days off. "I think Canada are playing Italy..."

Padme goes red instantly, her insides squirming, and she shoots her friend an icy glare. "Dorme!"

Holding up her hands in surrender, she laughs and shakes her head. "What? We're not doing anything. Besides, I know you _want_ to." Dorme waggles her eyebrows at her, making Padme roll her eyes.

Groaning, she shook her head at her friend. "I can't afford distractions, Dorme. I've _got_ to remain focused."

"Distractions?" Dorme raises an eyebrow. "Who said anything about distractions? I just suggested we go watch men's beach volleyball to kill some time. I don't know what _you_ were thinking of."

Padme can't help but laugh at her friend's sardonic nature. "You're a bad influence on me," she sighs, but eventually shakes her head and gives in.

Sabe tags along, too, and the three of them head over to the arena and take their seats right up the back. It's halftime when they enter, and as they walk up the steps, Padme feels a strange tingling sensation bubbling inside her, as though she's being watched. Turning around slowly, she sees _him,_ the attractive Canadian beach volleyball player, staring straight at her. His bright blue eyes pierce hers, scorching her with his intense gaze, and then his mouth breaks out into a wide, easy smile.

Her mouth slacks and she stares at him with wide eyes for _just_ a moment, as he drags a hand through his sweaty hair and flashes her a wink. Immediately returning to her senses, she shakes her head, her cheeks now pink, and scurries up the stairs behind Dorme, feeling his gaze following her all the way to her seat. There's no denying it. He's _seen_ her now.

Padme isn't sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. All she knows is that she can't afford distractions. She _has_ to stay focused.

* * *

The stadium erupts into resounding cheers as Padme curtsies for the judges and prances prettily off the floor, the ball tucked under her arm. She's greeted by her coach, Onaconda Farr, who hugs her proudly and pats her on the back, telling her what a great routine it was. As she waits for her results, she chews on her already blunt nails nervously, eyes trained on the scoreboard.

 **NABERRIE Padme (USA)** _16.320_

Her score flashes up across the screen, and Padme almost squeals with happiness, as more cheers and applause break out in the audience at her score. She's beaten her qualifying score, and it's enough to put her through to the next round. Proud tears well in her eyes as she hugs her teammates and coach, all of them crying out her praise at a job well done. She can't _wait_ to go back to her room and call her parents. They'll be _ecstatic._

It's as she cooling down, stretching out, absently watching the other competitor's routines, that Dorme suddenly nudges her in the ribs.

"You've got an admirer." She nods her head toward the stands.

Following her gaze, Padme almost jumps in surprise. There, leaning casually against a pillar up in the stands, is _him._ What is _he_ doing here?

"There's your hunky beach volleyball player. He watched your entire routine, by the way."

That knowledge makes her flush deeply, embarrassed and somewhat… _flattered._ The fact that he actually _watched_ her performance does something to her stomach that makes it flutter and quiver ridiculously.

"He's not _my_ beach volleyball player," she retorts shyly, ducking her eyes from his _oh so exquisite_ cerulean gaze. "I've never even spoken a single word to him."

Dorme, it seems, doesn't take that as a good enough excuse, and shrugs her shoulders. "So? Go and talk to him. He's hot. You're hot. Go for it."

The very idea has Padme horrified, blushing furiously, and she stares at her friend incredulously. "No! I _told_ you, Dorme. I _can_ ' _t_ get distracted. Sabe, back me up here, will you?" She turns helplessly to her other friend, beside her.

To her annoyance, Sabe only flashes her a wry grin and shrugs her shoulders. "Actually, I agree with Dorme on this one. I mean, technically, you're finished for today. What's the harm? And, he _is_ hot."

Groaning at their lack of support, Padme pouts stubbornly. Her friends are being _entirely_ unhelpful.

"Well, if you're so against the idea, you'd better get out of here fast, Padme, because he's coming over here. Right now."

Blanching, Padme jerks her head back up to see that, _yes_ , he's striding directly towards her, an unbelievably smug grin on his handsome face.

 _Shit._

* * *

Both Dorme and Sabe suddenly exclaim that Coach Farr needs them, and _conveniently_ disappear, leaving Padme absolutely helpless as the ridiculously attractive Canadian beach volleyball player approaches her. All she can do is bite her lip and continue her stretches as though nothing is going on. It's not long before his tall, lean frame is looming over her, and when she tips her head back, she almost drowns in those beautiful, clear blue eyes of his, smiling down at her, with the corners of his skin around his eyes wrinkled slightly. Honestly, it's just not _fair_ for someone to be this gorgeous.

Her mouth goes dry as she stares up at him, getting lost in his dazzling smile, as her eyes dart over the plump fullness of his pale pink lips. Unconsciously, she wets her own lips with her tongue, barely even aware that he's talking to her, until his smooth voice interrupts her thoughts.

"Hey."

Blinking her eyes rapidly, she's jolted back to reality, and it takes all her concentration to return his greeting with a feeble, "Hey." Then, realizing that she's still sitting on the ground, making a fool of herself, she stands up. For someone who is an Olympic rhythmic gymnast and exceptionally graceful on the floor, she stumbles as she hurriedly rises to her feet and falls forward into him, her face smacking straight into his strong chest. His hands rest on her arms to steady her, and she's acutely aware of how _warm_ his skin is against hers, even through his track suit.

Then, realizing that she's _literally_ squishing herself against a stranger, she pulls away and straightens her posture, trying desperately to keep her composure. "Sorry," she mutters softly, darting her eyes to the floor in embarrassment, and feeling her cheeks grow warm.

He only chuckles, a soft, warm, decadent sound that rolls over her skin so deliciously, like a caress, it makes her shudder involuntarily. "Nice routine there," He compliments her with a smile, making her blush again. "I...uh...saw you watching my game," he says with a bemused smirk. It only makes him more goddamn attractive.

"Well, I – uh…" she stutters, trying to come up with an appropriate excuse, but it's hard when she's talking to a walking wet dream. "I wanted to watch my country, y'know."

The beautiful stranger raises an eyebrow at her, that infuriatingly sexy smirk stretching wider across his face. "The US weren't even playing."

Padme has _never_ wanted to crawl into a hole and remain there for the rest of her life more than at _this_ very moment. "I… um…well, I like beach volleyball, okay?" She shrugs her shoulders.

He laughs again, his eyes twinkling, and Padme squirms uncomfortably on the spot, her cheeks hot and flustered. This is possibly the _worst_ conversation she's ever had in her life, and the sooner she can leave this situation, the better. It seems, however, that the man in front of her has other plans, for he holds out his hand, kind of awkwardly but utterly adorable all the same, and introduces himself.

"Anakin Skywalker. Nice to meet you."

She stares at his large hand for a moment, unsure what to do, before flicking her eyes back to his and slipping her hand into his grip. "Padme Naberrie."

* * *

"You're very… _graceful,_ " he tells her, rubbing his hand through the back of his hair. "Out on the floor, I mean." He nods toward the mat. They've been standing here, talking, for the past ten minutes or so, and Padme is positive that she reeks something terrible and _desperately_ needs to have a shower, but Anakin either hasn't noticed, or doesn't care. He's rather charming, Padme notes, begrudgingly. She'd been hoping that he'd be a complete jackass or something, but instead, she finds herself growing more and more attracted to him every second she spends talking to him.

His compliment catches her off guard, and she smiles shyly and clasps her hands behind her back. "Thank you. You're very…" her voice breaks off as she looks him up and down, trying to find an accurate description. "Tall." She concludes rather unceremoniously, but he only laughs again, which does absolutely _nothing_ to quell the feelings currently stirring inside her.

"Well spotted. It kinda helps to be _tall_ in volleyball," he teases her, that gorgeous voice of his alit with amusement. Padme almost cringes at how _terrible_ she is at flirting. She's _so_ out of practice – the last time she was in a relationship was in high-school, but she'd had to end it because her training took up too much of her time, and she couldn't afford _distractions._ She hasn't had _time_ to date. She's been too focused on her gymnastic career, on qualifying for the Olympic team. So, it's no surprise that she's making an utter fool of herself in front of the hottest guy she's _ever_ seen. She's surprised that she can even form words at this point, because her brain has turned to complete mush.

"What are you doing now?" He asks suddenly, a bright smile on his face. "Did you wanna hang out or something?" He shoves his hands in the pockets of his Team Canada jacket and gives her a questioning half shrug.

Padme can hardly believe what she's hearing. He's asking her _out?_ Like, on an impromptu date – because there's not exactly many dating spots around here, and it's not like she can really go out into Rio itself. How did this happen? How can _he_ even be remotely interested in _her_ , of all people. Padme knows she's not unattractive, but she's possibly the most socially awkward person, especially in situations like _this_ , and everything that has happened between them so far should be turning him away, not turning him _on._

"I would like that," she tells him, honestly, chewing on her lip. "But, I've gotta head back to my room and have a shower and stuff so…"

"Can I join you?"

His interruption makes her flush bright red, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh...well – I'm…er…" She stammers nervously. He wants to _join_ her? In the _shower?_ He can't really be _that_ forward, can he? But, of course, her imagination betrays her, and suddenly it's _all_ she can think about. She begins to undress him with her eyes, wondering what he looks like underneath his Team Canada track suit, with water dripping all down his tanned skin, over his broad shoulders and muscled back...Her thighs clench together instinctively.

It's been _far_ too long…

Anakin coughs awkwardly, his own cheeks ablaze, suddenly realizing just what he'd said, bringing her out of her sinfully delicious thoughts. "Sorry. I – uh, I just meant walking you back to your room."

If anything, that only makes Padme _more_ embarrassed. Of _course,_ he couldn't have meant that. What was she _thinking?_ "Oh. Right. Sure. I'd…I'd like that. Thanks." She gives him an overly bright smile, hoping to redeem herself, and it must work, because Anakin nods his head and grins at her, and she positively _melts._

"Lead the way, Padme," he gestures for her to walk first, then falls into step beside her.

* * *

When they arrive at her room, she takes out her key card and opens her door. To her sudden delight, she finds her room empty – Sabe must still be with Dorme back at the arena. She turns and smiles up at Anakin, unsure of how to proceed. This is the end of their time together, she knows it, but she doesn't want to leave his presence just yet. There's just _something_ about him that draws her, intrigues her (his good looks beside), and she wants to get to know him better, even if they only have a little under two weeks left before they part ways.

Anakin, it seems, faces the same dilemma, for there is this almost melancholy smile that graces his pretty lips. "So."

"So."

She doesn't miss how his eyes dart to her mouth, and it causes her to wet her lips again – something she's been doing so much in the last twenty-odd minutes that they're bound to go dry and be sore. There's this look in his eyes, desire, _longing,_ and it makes Padme nervous. What does he want? What does he _expect_ of her? What happens now?

Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he darts his gaze down to the floor, suddenly turning adorably shy. It's a different side to him, from the previously confident, almost _arrogant_ version of him she's seen so far, but Padme finds she likes it… even _more_ so. "It was…uh…really nice to meet you, Padme," he mutters, all unsure and nervous.

Equally nervous, Padme nods her head and flashes him what she _hopes_ is a charming smile, but it feels more like a grimace. "Y-you too, Anakin."

They stand in silence for a bit longer, neither one sure of what they're supposed to do next, until Anakin coughs again and takes a step towards her, closing the distance between them. Once again, his eyes draw in on her mouth, like he wants to kiss her, and even though they haven't known each other very long, it's the one thing Padme wants more than anything right now. Even more than a _gold medal_ at this point.

She watches with wide eyes as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and his eyes flutter closed for _just_ a second, before he stares straight into her own, right into her _soul._ "I…" He begins, uncertainly. "I don't normally do this but…I was wondering if – well, I'd like to…um…" He breaks off, and his teeth sink into his lip, and Padme can positively _feel_ the electricity sizzling in the air between them. It's red hot and heady and makes her knees quake. "I'd like to kiss you. If you…if you'll let me." He glanced at her lips again before flicking his eyes up to hers, hope dancing in their depths.

At first, all Padme can do is smile. He's _so_ Canadian – asking her politely if he can kiss her, and it makes her giggle. She nods her head, and Anakin slowly nods also, swallows, then steps even closer to her. When he leans forward and presses his trembling lips to hers, it sends a shiver of pure _pleasure_ down her spine. She responds to his gentle kiss timidly, and reaches up to rest her hands against his shoulders, stepping up on her toes in order to kiss him better. Her actions make him grow more confident, and he slides his large hand up the back of her neck, angling her face to him and stepping even closer to her. They're pressed together now, chest to chest, and Padme's heart is beating so loudly against her ribcage she's surprised he can't hear it.

His tongue slips out, sliding slowly along her lips, politely begging entry, and she opens her mouth to him willingly. Their tongues meet in a gentle caress, timid and unsure, and Padme wonders if he is just as inexperienced as she is. After a few moments, they eventually pull apart, both of their chests heaving, their eyes dark with desire. And then, Padme does something she's _never_ done before in her life.

She invites him inside.

* * *

Padme doesn't know _how_ it happened, but suddenly, they're attacking each other, mouths mashing together aggressively, as they paw at each other's bodies. Her hands fumble with the zipper of his track suit, shoving it off his shoulders and down his arms. It lands in a heap on the floor behind him. Anakin's hands are in her hair, delicately removing the pins holding her bun together and tossing them on the floor, before thrusting his fingers into her hair, letting her natural curls loose to bounce around her shoulders. She can feel the slight _tug_ as he runs his fingers through her hair, and it feels _so good._

They take a step back, as the need for air is still important, and Padme rakes her eyes hungrily over his form. His upper body is clothed in a tight-fitting grey t-shirt with **CANADA** written across it in large, black letters, that clings to his muscled chest in a way that makes Padme lick her lips again. Truly, he is so _goddamn hot_ , she can hardly believe this is happening.

Then, suddenly, they're back in each other's arms, fusing their lips together once more. Padme slides her hands down his chest to reach the hem of his t-shirt, then tugs it upwards, exposing the flat muscled plane of his abdomen to her searching fingers. It's only when his t-shirt is bunched up under his armpits that they break apart again so he can savagely pull it off and toss it aside carelessly with his track suit jacket.

Anakin barely gives her a second to admire his naked chest before he hauls her back into his arms, his hands coming to rest on her hips, pulling her flush against him. His lips suckle along her jaw, pressing biting kisses against her skin, before reaching her ear, nipping the earlobe with his teeth. "How do you get this damn thing _off?!_ " he growls, as his hands slide up and down her sides.

She giggles at his impatience, before stepping back out of his embrace and slowly peeling her leotard off her body. As more and more of her skin is revealed to him, his pupils dilate, his breath hitches, and his jaw slacks just a little. Once she's completely removed it, she gently folds it before resting it on Sabe's bed – because it's irreplaceable and expensive, and she doesn't want to ruin it. She needs it for the rest of the Games. Anakin's eyes almost pop out of his head as he realizes she's naked underneath, and he gulps nervously, before yanking down his track suit pants and white cotton briefs all at once, kicking them aside haphazardly.

He stands before her completely bare, the obvious evidence of his arousal jutting out at her from a nest of dark blonde curls, swollen and hard and throbbing, and Padme has _never_ felt more desired in her entire life than right _now_. The way his lust-filled eyes survey her naked form, as though he is scorching her with his intoxicating gaze, makes her sex _ache_ with need. Padme has never been this kind of person. She's only had sex once before in her life, and it wasn't a very pleasurable experience. She _never_ would've expected this to happen. And yet, now that she's in this situation, she can't think of a reason to stop.

"You're _so_ beautiful," he whispers reverently, and she blushes shyly at his compliment.

"So are you." He blushes as well, which she finds endearing.

And then, they're back together, skin pressed against skin, stumbling awkwardly backwards until they fall together onto her bed. Anakin's weight crushes her underneath him, and she's acutely aware of his erection pressed firmly against her thigh, but she doesn't care. She explores the broad expanse of his muscular back, feeling his muscles ripple under her fingertips, while he palms gently at her firm, rounded breasts, flicking her nipples with his thumbs, all the while kissing her neck. The feel of his long, calloused fingers sliding softly over her skin is greater than _any_ feeling in the world she has _ever_ experienced. When he takes her taut nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, pulling and pinching and rolling them sharply, she involuntarily arches off the bed upward into his chest, a soft mewl slipping past her lips at the sensation. Padme doesn't believe she's _ever_ been this wet, this _aroused,_ in her life, and they've barely _done anything._

He pushes himself up onto his elbows so that he can gaze down at her face, and his hands come up to caress her cheeks. "Are you _sure_ you want this?" he asks her, adorably sweet and considerate.

" _Yes,_ _"_ Padme nods her head, instantly. This much, she is sure of. She doesn't even _care_ that they've only known each other a maximum of thirty minutes. There's _something_ between them…she can't explain it, but she can _feel_ it.

The most stunning smile she's ever seen cracks across his face, and he bends back down to kiss her deeply once more.

* * *

"C-condoms?" She blurts out suddenly. The engorged head of his cock is bumping rhythmically against her wet entrance as he grinds his hips against hers, and even though he's nudging her sensitive clit each time, making her moan from the pleasured sensation he's creating, and she's close to losing her train of thought, she is suddenly jerked back to reality at the need for protection.

Anakin freezes above her and leans up on his elbows, eyes growing wide. "R-right. Yeah." He nods his head firmly, before letting out a frustrated sigh. "I don't have any…I w-wasn't expecting to...they're back in my room..."

He makes to move off of her, when she slips her hands into his hair, caressing his scalp tenderly. "It's alright. I've got some," she whispers. Each athlete was given a " _care_ _packet_ " when they arrived at the Village, which included condoms. At first, Padme had scoffed at the idea, but now that she is in _this_ situation, she is glad for the foresight.

She directs Anakin to where she's put them – in the second drawer in the bathroom – and waits patiently for him to return. When he does, she shamelessly admires him as he quickly sheaths himself, before climbing back on top of her, nestling eagerly between her spread legs. "Have you done t-this before?" he asks timidly, his eyes searching hers, both curious _and_ concerned.

Padme nods her head shyly, her cheeks crimson. "Once."

"Same." He nods and wets his lips, his eyes darkening to near black with desire. Sliding his hands between her legs to rub her wet folds, brushing gently over her smooth sex, testing to see if she's ready, he nuzzles into her neck, pressing a series of sweet kisses there. "You're so wet for me...you feel _amazing_ ," he groans low in her ear.

Padme drags his head up to hers with a firm grip on his hair, meeting his dark, lusty eyes with her own. " _I want you, Anakin,_ _"_ she breathes on an exhale, watching as a grin slowly spreads on his face.

It's all the confirmation he needs to ease himself inside her, slowly, letting her feel every inch of him as he slides in. He's not overly big, just _nice,_ filling her so perfectly, unlike anything she's ever felt before. Once his hips are flush against hers, pressed right up together as tight and as far as he can go, he shudders and let's out a long hoarse moan. It's the most erotic sound she's _ever_ heard in her life.

Wrapping her arms and legs around him, their bodies move together somewhat stiffly at first, as they grow accustomed to each other, but eventually, they find a rhythm that works. His breath is hot and heavy right against her ear, as he pants and grunts with each hard thrust inside her, and Padme echoes him with her own pleasured gasps, scratching her nails down his back. It's frenetic and hot and passionate, full of this sudden, ferocious lust they feel for each other, and it's not long before they reach their climaxes together, both of them crying out as they reach their release. Padme arches gracefully off the bed, thrusting both her hips and her torso up against Anakin, her arms wrapped around his neck, her wet walls clenching and spasming in a tight, hot _squeeze_ around his cock. Anakin's hips twitch, and with a low growl in her ear, he comes powerfully with one final, hard thrust inside her, and she can feel every pulsing eruption inside her as she cradles him to her.

They lay like that, in an entanglement of sweaty limbs for several long moments with Anakin's weight pressing her down into the mattress, coming down from the height of their orgasms, until eventually, he pulls out and rolls off of her, momentarily exhausted, and throws his arms behind his head. There's this incredibly relaxed grin on his face, and he looks so content and _satisfied_ that Padme can't help but smile at him.

" _Wow_ ," he exclaims softly, profoundly, twisting his head to look over at her, a genuine smile gracing his features, his eyes dancing with pure _delight_.

Giggling, Padme turns onto her side and props herself up on her elbow. "Yeah…"

Suddenly, they both burst out laughing, and Anakin wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his bare chest as his laughter rumbles through his body onto hers. "I can't _believe_ that just happened," he whispers, lips at her ear, and Padme just shakes her head against his chest.

"I know," she whispers back and hides her embarrassment by kissing his chest softly, ghosting her lips over the firm muscles of his pectorals.

Issuing a low, aroused groan in her ear, Anakin rolls them both so that he's once again hovering above her and skims his hands down her sides, underneath the curve of her backside. Ducking his head, he kneels over her and kisses between the valley of her breasts, before tracing his tongue on a wet path up to her nipple, taking the puckered peak into his succulent mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking on it _hard_ , making Padme mewl and squirm in his arms, arching her back in pleasure.

" _Anakin_ _…"_ she protests, her hands pushing on his chest to force him to look at her. "What…what are you doing?"

A wicked grin curls his lips, and he shuffles down her body further, dragging his hot tongue along the flat plane of her abdomen. "I wanna make you cum again," he vows, and flashes her a wink before his roguish grin disappears between her thighs.

Padme can't refuse such an offer.

* * *

"You little _minx!_ " Sabe exclaims excitedly, her eyes wide and gleaming, a smirk upon her lips.

Padme groans and puts her head in her hands. She shouldn't have said anything. Knowing her best friend, she will _never_ live this down.

"I can't _believe_ you had sex with him!" Sabe continues, unable to contain her shock at this new revelation. "How long had you known him for? Thirty minutes max?"

Refusing to look at her friend, she simply mumbles, "Something like that."

Sabe slaps her appreciatively on the knee. "Good on _you_ , girl! Taking what you want! I'm _so_ proud of you!"

"I don't know what came over me," Padme explains, somewhat insistent upon defending her actions, even though she has no regrets whatsoever. It's not like it was a one time thing. They'd exchanged phone numbers and had added each other on _Facebook_. He'd given her his room number. They were going to meet up again tomorrow. It wasn't a big deal…

was it?

"It all happened so fast…I can't explain it!"

"Was it good?" Sabe asks, waggling her eyebrows and grinning wolfishly.

Padme's cheeks grow hot again as she remembers just _how_ _good_ he'd made her feel, how good he'd fucked her, how he'd given her multiple orgasms whilst only experiencing two himself. In truth, he was a most generous lover, a little _too_ eager, but attentive and thorough – though she only had Rush Clovis to compare him to, and _that_ experience was something she'd discarded from her memory long ago.

"… _Yes_ …" Padme admits, sheepishly.

Her friend gives a low whistle and winks at her. "This is _hilarious!_ Of all people, I never expected it to be _you_ in this kind of situation!"

"I _know!_ _"_ Padme cries, helplessly. "What do I _do_? I mean, what does this _mean_?"

Sabe chews on her lip for a moment, considering her question. "Well, are you seeing him again?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Padme plays with a lock of her hair absently. "Yeah, but… just for – _you_ _know_ …"

"And, are you okay with that?"

Her friend's question makes her stop in her tracks a little. _Is_ she okay with this? She's never been in this kind of situation before… Is sex (even amazing sex, at that) enough for her? Does she want more? "I don't know," she says quietly after a moment. "It's not like I've ever done this before."

The more she thinks about it, the more she begins to grow anxious. What if she's not the only girl Anakin's sleeping with during the Games? Is she okay with being just another piece of ass? What if she _does_ want more? Will he want that? Will it even be _possible?_ He _does_ live in Canada… It's not exactly like he's close by. As soon as she raises all of these concerns to her friend, Sabe heaves a sigh and shakes her head.

"I don't know the answers, Padme. Have you talked to him about it?" Padme shakes her head. "Maybe you should. Set some boundaries or something. I mean, _do_ you have feelings for him?"

"I don't know," Padme sighs. "It's too early for _that_ , surely. I mean, I hardly know him… Actually, come to think of it...I _don_ ' _t_ know him at all. I literally know _nothing_ about him. Except his name and that he's from Canada, and he plays beach volleyball."

Sabe gapes at her. "Are you _serious?_ Didn't you guys talk at _all?_ "

Blushing, Padme shakes her head. "Not really. We were a bit…preoccupied."

Throwing her hands up in the air, Sabe cries out with exasperation. " _Padme!_ _"_

"I know, I know!" Padme yields, holding up her palms in surrender. "I told you, it all happened so fast. It's not like I _planned_ it."

Eyebrows furrowing, Sabe pouts and tucks a lock of her brown hair behind her ears. "Alright. When do you see him next? Tomorrow?" Padme nods in affirmation. "Right. Tomorrow, you need to talk to him about this. You need to establish what this _thing_ is between you two. Otherwise, you'll just end up getting hurt."

Her friend is right, of course. But the thought of talking to Anakin about this has Padme extremely nervous. What if she turns him away? What if she _does_ want more than he's willing to give her?

* * *

She was meaning to talk to him. Truly, she was. In fact, Padme had it all planned out when Anakin had texted her, asking her if she wanted to come over. But, as soon as he'd opened the door with that charming smile on his face, and she'd stepped inside his room and he'd shut and locked the door, all logical thought processes had disappeared almost instantly… along with their clothes. He'd been adorably timid and shy at first, cupping her face tenderly and kissing her sweetly, but when Padme thrust her tongue into his mouth, all attempts at being _gentle_ were discarded.

Now, she's naked, on her knees in front of him, his back braced against the wall, with his hard cock in her mouth. She hasn't had much experience with pleasing a man like this – having only done it three times in her entire life, but the way he's groaning and cursing under his breath, and massaging her scalp tenderly with his long fingers, gives her confidence that she's doing a good job. Padme never thought she'd ever take pleasure in doing _this_ … She's never really enjoyed it much before. But, there's just something about _Anakin_ , about how beautiful his expression is, as his blue eyes stare directly down into hers, watching her as she takes him in her mouth, and the way he's caressing her hair with almost loving affection, that makes her thighs quiver with want and _need_.

Her hands fill with the firm muscles of his backside, kneading the strong flesh gently in time with her bobbing movements over his throbbing shaft. When she accidentally scraps her teeth along his length, his eyes close and his head rolls back in _pleasure,_ and a sharp hiss slips from his mouth _._ She can feel him twitching in her mouth, swollen and ready to burst, as she swirls her tongue around his head, and even though she's prepared for him to release, he suddenly lets go of her hair and steps backwards, pulling his slick cock out of her mouth. Taking her arms in his hands, he lifts her to her feet and kisses her sweetly.

"You're _amazing_ , Padme," he mutters his praise against her lips.

Padme sighs contentedly into his mouth and hitches a leg over his hip, which encourages him to lift her up underneath her thighs so she can wrap her legs around his waist. At first, she thinks he's going to carry her over to his bed, but, instead, he turns them around and presses her firmly back against the wall. Keeping her upright with the strength of just one of his arms, he reaches over to the table next to him for a condom with his other hand and rips it open with his teeth.

"Let me," Padme smiles at him sweetly, taking it from him, and when he pulls his hips back slightly to give her room, she rolls it sensually over his cock as it pokes at her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze when she's finished that makes him moan all low and sexy, deep in the back of his throat.

Then, she wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders, and Anakin surges into her. She cries out at the depth of the penetration, her nails digging harshly into his skin. Each brutal spike of his hips against hers causes her back to slam against the wall almost violently, but Padme hardly notices the pain, because he's reaching so deep inside her, hitting her pleasure spot again and again with the head of his cock, and she's almost numb with pleasure. Her eyes roll back into her head, and she clings to him for dear life. He keeps one hand on her hip, his fingers digging tightly into her flesh, as he effectively bounces her body over him, the other pressed flat against the wall.

" _Yes, yes, oh my god! Anakin! Right there ! Right_ _–_ _"_ her breathless cries fall from her lips, almost unconsciously, overwhelmed with the sensations he's causing inside her.

Anakin's face falls into the crook of her shoulder, and he sucks her skin into his mouth, biting her flesh so that it'll leave a bruise, marking her, and Padme's just glad her leotard will cover the mark, because she doesn't want to explain _that_ to her coach. " _Ugh_ _…_ _so tight. So good, Padme, so_ _–_ _fuck, you feel so fucking good._ _"_

She comes first, violently, screaming out his name, and he follows her only seconds later, groaning and burying himself as deep inside her as he can, filling the condom with his seed. It's only once he begins to grow soft inside her that he lets her slide down onto her feet, but Padme still clings to his shoulders. Her feet are unsteady from her orgasm, and she can't stand up properly… not yet.

As she slowly returns to her senses, Anakin kisses her all over her face, smothering her with unexpected affection. "You're _so_ gorgeous," he tells her, as his lips meet hers once more. "I'm so lucky."

Her cheeks flush red at his compliment, but then she remembers what she actually came here for, and she steps away from him on still shaky legs, putting on her black sweatpants and throwing her Team USA t-shirt over her head. "I need to talk to you," she answers his questioning stare as he eyes her curiously, obviously confused as to _why_ she's getting dressed. "And, I can't do that when I'm naked."

Nodding his head and muttering, "Alright," he lopes off into the bathroom to clean up and returns with a pair of loose, grey shorts that sit low around his hips, still shirtless, much to her annoyance. _How_ is she supposed to concentrate when his glorious chest is on display?

"What did you wanna talk about?" He asks causally, plopping down on his bed and leaning back on his elbows in such a casual manner.

Padme plays with the end of her hair, unsure of where to start. How is she supposed to talk about… _this_ _…_ whatever it is they are doing…without scaring him away? She doesn't want to pressure him into something he doesn't want. Even _Padme_ doesn't know what she wants. It's all so complicated, and she's nervous.

Swallowing her fears, she takes a leap of faith. "We should get to know each other," she suggests, thinking it's the safest approach. "I mean, we don't know _anything_ about each other. You've had your… _tongue_ inside me…" She blushes furiously as she says the words but carries on strongly as though nothing is out of the ordinary. "Yet, I don't even know how old you are!"

He smiles warmly at her and runs his hand through his hair, and she can't help but notice that _his_ cheeks are flushed pink, too. "Well, I'm eighteen, if that helps."

She laughs and nods her head. "I'm nineteen."

"You cougar," he teases her, and she scoffs. Anakin pats the spot on his bed beside him and grins cheekily. "Come on then. Fire away. I'm not gonna bite."

Smirking at his tease, as he's already done _that_ , she shakes her head, but joins him on his bed. _This isn_ _'_ _t so bad,_ she thinks happily to herself. _Not so bad at all._

* * *

"So, what do you want to know, eh?" he asks with a soft, reassuring smile, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

His easy, uncomplicated nature is something Padme greatly appreciates, because it makes her feel comfortable around him. Heaving a sigh, she tucks her legs underneath her and tosses her hair over her shoulders, focusing her full attention on his face. "Well…what exactly is _this?_ " She gestures between the two of them, peeking up at him shyly through her long eyelashes.

Anakin sits up and crosses his legs, turning his body so that he's facing her. He looks ridiculous with his long limbs and tall frame curled up like this. When he speaks, his voice is soft and higher than usual, as though he's nervous. "What do you _want_ it to be?"

It definitely isn't the answer she's expecting. Padme had been convinced he'd just brush off their… _relationship_ (if that is even the right word) as just casual sex, but the way he's looking at her, as though he is _just_ as conflicted and nervous about this as she is, makes her rethink her original thoughts. Maybe this is a big deal to _him_ , too.

"I don't know," she mutters quietly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. When did this become so complicated? She's here to compete in the Olympic Games, and here she is, having a fling with a Canadian boy and worrying about what it means. She _told_ herself she wouldn't get distracted, and yet that's exactly what's she's doing. A little voice in her head reprimands her for losing perspective, but she ignores it. "I've never done something like this before."

Laughing, Anakin flashes her a charming grin and shrugs his shoulders. "Neither have I."

Padme sighs. "I think...maybe, it's best if we just keep this… _physical_."

He tips his head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean, Padme?"

With a sad smile, she shrugs her shoulders. "Well, it's not like we could actually _date_ each other, Anakin."

A little pout purses his lips together, and his eyebrows furrow in dejected bewilderment. "Why not?" It makes Padme wonder if she's got him all wrong. Maybe he's _not_ just in it for sex, like she first thought, but maybe he really actually _likes_ her… or at least, likes her enough to think about the possibility of dating her. It takes her completely by surprise.

"Anakin, you live in _Canada!_ " she reminds him, somewhat flummoxed, her eyes wide in exasperation. "At the end of the Games, we'll _both_ go back home...to two different _countries._ "

He's still staring at her as though she's missing something completely obvious. "Yeah… but, so what? Why does _that_ make a difference? I mean, we've both got phones… we could call and text, and there's always Skype, so...?" He looks confused and more than a little thwarted.

She can hardly believe what he's saying. How can he be so blasé and _optimistic_ about this situation? "I'm going to be training! So are _you!_ " she cries out. "I don't even have time to date someone in my own area code, let alone someone in Canada!"

Anakin just laughs good-naturedly and rakes his hand through his hair again, making it stick up at odd angles. "Alright. Fair enough. You're busy. I'm busy. I get it. So, what do you want then?"

Padme bites her lip and sighs heavily. "I think…we should just keep it friendly, y'know? No emotions or anything…it's just _easier_ that way. For _both_ of us." She can't afford to grow attached to him, not if they're going to be parting ways in less than two weeks. Sabe was right, she'd only end up getting hurt. So could he. It's much better to lay the ground rules now, to put rules in place, to prevent that from happening.

Even though he smiles and nods his head, Padme can sense that he's a little disappointed by her flippancy, but it's necessary. She's here to compete for a medal, she can't get distracted by impossible romances with Canadian beach volleyball players. She's got to remain focussed. It's _just_ sex. Nothing more.

"Right. No feelings. Gotcha. No problem."

They sit in silence for a moment, and Padme suddenly feels awkward and uncomfortable in his presence. She needs to go back to her room and refocus her energy on her performance tomorrow. Standing up, she bids him goodbye and kisses him politely on the cheek. Just as she's about to leave, he takes hold of her hand and forces her to turn back to look at him, his eyes earnestly searching hers.

"I'll see you soon though, yeah?"

Those gorgeous blue eyes are wide and innocent and _pleading,_ and Padme can't help but give him a bright smile and nod her head confidently. "Of course. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The brilliant grin on his face is all she can see as she heads back to her room.

* * *

Padme exhales deeply through her nose, closing her eyes. She can clearly visualize herself performing her routine in her head, and calms herself down by focusing all her energy inwards. It's a technique she's been using for years to keep herself concentrated solely on her performance. The baton twitches in her hand as she taps it against her thigh. She's ready.

Her name is called, and she bounds out onto the floor, shoulders back, head held high, as her fellow teammates and USA supporters cheer her on from the stands. Grinning brightly, she waves at them proudly, before taking her starting position.

The music begins, and then she's away. Twirling, turning, tumbling, jumping… Gliding smoothly and fluidly across the floor in time to the music. Only _here_ does she feel completely effortless, as though nothing exists except her body, the baton, and the music pulsing rhythmically through her veins. She's aware of nothing but her own body. It's almost calming, this state of peace that she's in as she performs. It's why she loves what she does. Nothing makes her happier than performing. Nothing else can compare.

When she's finished, she curtsies and waves up at the stands once more to see Sabe and Dorme and the rest of the girls on the sidelines, as well as the male gymnasts from Team USA, cheering and whooping loudly from the stands, standing up and clapping their hearts out, and it fills Padme with a sense of pride. She's done her country proud and her team proud, and at the end of the day, that's really _all_ that matters to her.

But, it's as she scans the arena and realizes that _he_ _'_ _s_ not there watching her, that she feels a pang of disappointment deep in her chest.

* * *

"We shouldn't be d-doing this," she says through grunts of pleasure. Anakin's large hands are gripping her hips firmly and pulling her ass back against his groin repeatedly as he thrusts hard into her from behind, and all she can do is push back against him.

He leans over her, presses his chest against her back, and nips at her earlobe before bathing it with his wet tongue. "Why not?" he breathes huskily in her ear, making her shudder. His hands slide up her back and then down her arms, gripping her wrists and almost pushing her down into the mattress as he fucks her slow and deep. It's so good that Padme can barely concentrate.

"B-because!" she protests weakly, trying to concentrate on her words, and not the feeling of Anakin's cock inside her, hitting all the right spots. "I s-should be…t-training!"

He laughs softly and scrapes his teeth along the back of her neck, biting just over her shoulder blade gently. "Think of it as endurance training."

She rolls her eyes and bucks her hips back against his again. "I don't _need_ endurance training," she reminds him. "I'm a gymnast."

Anakin suddenly pulls out, and she lets out a whine in protest, before he roughly turns her over on the bed, throws her legs over his shoulders, grabs her hips in his hands and slams back into her, making her eyes roll back into her head from the pleasure. "Well, what kind of _training_ do you require?" he teases her, bending forward and nipping at her bottom lip, pinning her arms above her head with just one of his hands and squeezing her breast with the other.

Grinning wickedly, she pulls her legs off his shoulders and hooks them around his waist, then flips them over quickly, so that she's straddling him, bringing a look of surprise across his face. "Flexibility," she purrs down at him, before she arches her back like a cat, reaching back with her hands to grip his ankles, all the while grinding herself along his cock.

The aroused groan that leaves his lips makes her smirk, and his hands instantly come up to rest on her hips, guiding her movements over him. " _Fucking hell,_ " he curses under his breath. " _You_ _'_ _re so fucking limber._ _"_

"You like that, huh?" she teases him.

"You have _no_ _idea_ how fucking hot this is."

Padme rises back up into a sitting position and leans right over him, her hands tugging his hair roughly. She rolls her hips over him, and he bends up his knees, meeting her thrusts with his own. It's not long before they're both coming, crying out into each other's mouths, their tongues sliding together inside her mouth.

"I think this friendship is working out just fine," she sighs, spent and satisfied, as she lays sprawled across his chest.

His soft laugh tickles her ear. "I totally agree."

* * *

On the last day of their events, the rhythmic girls decided to celebrate with a night out on the town. Padme is excited – partying in Rio is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and seeing as she is finished her performances, she feels it's only right to let her hair down a little. For four years, she's been so focused on her gymnastics career she's hardly had time to be a 19-year-old girl, and as the drinking age in Brazil is 18, she's allowed to go into nightclubs, too.

"This is gonna be the _best_ night!" Sabe gushes as she applies her lipstick in the bathroom. Padme grins and voices her agreement as she laces up her strappy heels. Her only party dress is this short, silver slip of a dress, which shimmers as she moves, with spaghetti straps and a low back. It's design means that she can't wear a bra with it, and whilst she's a little self-conscious about wearing something so scandalous, Sabe insists that she looks _'_ _hot as hell_ _'_. She decides to wear her hair in a messy bun atop her head, and adds a thin, black choker around her neck and a pair of long, dangly earrings. Her makeup is natural, with simple winged eyeliner, pale pink lipstick and glittery highlighter on her cheekbones to make her eyes pop. As she looks herself over in the mirror, she can't deny that she looks good. _Hot_ even.

On impulse, she decides to send Anakin a _Snapchat_ of what she's wearing, because not wearing a bra makes her feel confident and sensual, and she wants to exploit this side of herself. He immediately replies with a picture of himself lying sprawled across his bed in a pair of sweatpants.

 **You look great! What** **'** **s the occasion?**

Padme tells him where she's going and then, because she's feeling bold, asks if he wants to come out with them. He tells her he'll talk to the rest of his friends and let her know but the anticipation of seeing him… of him seeing _her_ in this dress makes her panties grow damp.

 _Get yourself together, Padme,_ she scolds herself immediately. Why does she want to see him so badly? They've been having sex on a pretty regular basis (almost every day…several times) so it can't be that she's still _horny_ , can it? Yet, her entire body _thrills_ with the thought of seeing him again. She can't explain it. What does it all mean?

 _It_ _'_ _s just that I_ _'_ _ve been used to seeing him every day, that_ _'_ _s all,_ she consoles herself, and gives herself a firm nod. Then, Sabe announces that she's ready, and the two of them head out downstairs to meet the rest of the girls, ready to hit the town.

* * *

"Shots!" Dorme cries, and the girls all cheer and hurry over to the bar. They're at the _Copacabana,_ and the atmosphere is _incredible_. It's so loud and crowded, and the air is hot and sweaty, and yet Padme has _never_ enjoyed herself this much in her entire life. The bartender hands around their tequila shots (because they're still American girls at heart and can't handle all these exotic Brazilian concoctions), and Padme licks the salt off her hand and throws the shot back. Just as she goes to pick up her lemon wedge, she sees someone holding it out for her.

 _Anakin._

He winks at her and mouths _open wide,_ and so she does, and he pushes the lemon wedge gently past her lips, his fingertips brushing softly against her mouth. She sucks on the lemon, her eyes never leaving his, and when she's done, he takes it from her mouth, throws back his own shot, and then plops her used lemon in his own mouth. It should be disgusting, but Padme has never seen anything so erotic in her entire life, and she licks her lips instinctively.

How did he know where she was? She didn't even see him come into the club, yet he apparently saw her. She feels a little unprepared, but Sabe just nudges her in the arm, grinning at her cheekily.

"Hey!" Anakin shouts at her over the music, leaning up against the bar. He looks stunning, in his tight black jeans and grey sleeveless t-shirt, showing off his incredible arms, his hair slightly spiky from gel. His eyes rake up and down her body like a physical caress, and she shudders under the heat of his gaze.

"When did you get here?" she shouts back, stepping closer to him so that he can hear her. Her heels don't even help the height difference between them – she still feels tiny compared to him.

"About an hour ago." Maybe it's because he's been drinking, but his Canadian accent is far more pronounced now, the lilts on his words slightly different than her own, and it only makes him that much more attractive. "The boys decided to come. We lost to Brazil. We needed to drown our sorrows," he gestures to his friends behind him – Padme glances over and recognizes his match partner, the slightly shorter, brown-haired guy with the olive skin, but not the others.

"How did you find me?"

Anakin flashes her a roguish smirk. "Easy. Just had to look for the sexiest girl in the club."

Her cheeks flush hot at his intended compliment, and if possible, she grows even wetter than before. _How_ is she so affected by him? She's positive he can see how puckered her nipples are through her slip, because there's this hungry look in his eyes, yet she can't move, can't think. Her feet are rooted to the floor.

"Stop it, Anakin," she tells him, putting her foot down firmly. "Don't look at me like that."

He laughs, a predatory gleam still in his eyes. "Why not?"

Pouting, she frowns up at him. "It makes me feel uncomfortable."

Closing the distance between them so they're pressed together, chest to chest, he smiles down at her all smug and rests his hands on her tiny waist. "Does it?" He asks in a low, husky, voice, clearly aroused.

Padme can't speak. Her tongue sneaks out to wet her lips again.

He bends down, lips brushing against her ear, and she shudders. "Dance with me?" he whispers, and there's no possible way she can deny him. He leads her out into the middle of the packed dance floor, and they begin to dance, their bodies grinding together as they sway to the exotic music. Anakin's hands are running all over her body, but Padme doesn't care that they're in a public place, she doesn't want him to ever stop.

She turns so that her back is to him, and he steps up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him, moving his body sensually against hers. His lips are at her neck, kissing the exposed skin and one of his hands slides up her side, trailing along the curve of her breast, his thumb flicking across her hardened nipple sending a shudder throughout her body. "You have _no_ _idea_ how much I wanna fuck you right now," he whispers directly in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe, and she pushes back instinctively into his groin, feeling his hardening bulge against her backside.

"Hmmm, I think I have _some_ idea," she purrs, reaching her arms above her head to tangle in his hair, holding his lips against her neck.

" _Fuck_ ," he groans against her skin, his teeth scraping across her earlobe, his hands sliding up and down her thighs, thrusting his hips forward against her backside in a not-so-subtle expression of his desire for her. "I want you _so_ _bad_. God, I think I'm in _love_ with you. Love you so much, Padme."

It's those words that make her freeze in his arms. He _loves_ her? No, that's not part of the agreement. He _can_ _'_ _t_ love her! They haven't known each other long enough. It must just be because he's been drinking. He's not thinking clearly. Still, Padme steps out of his arms, trying not to wince at the heartbreakingly confused expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asks, reaching for her hand.

She hasn't got the heart to tell him the truth, so she mumbles something about curfew and then disappears into the crowd to find her friends. _This_ is what she'd been dreading as soon as she started her… _arrangement_ … with Anakin. Someone catching feelings. Someone getting too attached. Someone getting _hurt._

Though, as she lies awake in her bed that night, she wonders if _she_ has started catching feelings for _him._ She quickly tosses that thought aside and rolls over, squeezing her eyes shut. There's no feelings attached to her arrangement with Anakin. It's purely physical. She has nothing to worry about.

A little voice in the back of her mind just laughs at her.

* * *

For the next few days they don't see each other, mainly because Padme is terrified of facing Anakin after his drunken confession. Of course, it's always possible that he doesn't remember, but they say that alcohol releases one's inhibitions, and she's positive that he meant it, at least on some level. And, she just can't deal with that right now.

However, the Closing Ceremony is in less than a week, and she's finished her events, so there's really nothing else to do except watch other events. She won't say she's bored, because she's at the Olympics, and there's so many events to watch, and she's with her friends, but she definitely misses Anakin. And, alarmingly, it's not the sex she misses. It's just _him_ , his presence, his easy, happy-go-lucky nature. She misses talking to him, watching the way his face lights up as he gushes about his sport, or his country, or his family. She misses teasing him about the way he says the word _'_ _about_ _'_ – even though he insists he says it perfectly normally. She misses his infectious laughter that makes the skin around his eyes crinkle and his lips crack into a wide, gorgeous smile.

Anakin Skywalker is unlike _any_ guy she's ever met. He's sweet, and charming and a bit of a dork with some of the things he comes out with, and when she's around him she feels… _effortless_ … like she's performing. Even though they've only known each other a little less than two weeks, she's drawn to him somehow, helpless to fight it.

And, she has no idea what it all means.

"You know, Padme, sometimes you're the most idiotic person I've _ever_ met," Sabe tells her as they sit on their beds, shaking her head sadly. It's the least comforting thing Padme wants to hear after confessing her problems.

"Gee, thanks, you're being super helpful," Padme snaps at her friend, glaring at her and crossing her arms over her chest.

Sabe just sighs and gives her a weak smile. "You know I love you. But, I've known you since we were five years old. And, honestly, you're the _worst_ person at dealing with your feelings."

The insult cuts deep, and Padme instantly goes on the defensive. "No, I'm not!" she protests.

"Yes, you _are_. Remember when you were thirteen and Palo had that enormous crush on you, and you were all like, 'we're just friends, he's like a brother to me,' but then, when he starting going out with another girl, you were all butt hurt?"

Padme grumbles and plays with the hem of her shorts. "That's different. I was thirteen."

"Ok. What about Rush then, huh? You guys were together for, what, four months? But once things started to get serious, all of a sudden you were _too busy_ to have a relationship." Sabe emphasizes her words using air quotes with her fingers.

"I _was!_ " Padme exclaims, angrily. "I didn't have time for a serious relationship. I _still_ don't!"

"That's not true, and you know it," Sabe points out, firmly. "You use training as an _excuse_ , when really, you're just scared of commitment. You're terrified of your own feelings, Padme. You always have been. And, now you're doing the same thing with Anakin, who _really_ seems to genuinely care about you."

Padme scowls. "No. This is _totally_ different. I don't have feelings for him. I haven't even known him that long."

Sabe pulls at her hair and lets out a strangled cry of exasperation. "Who _cares_ how long you've known him?! These things happen! It's so damn _obvious_ you have feelings for him, especially after what you've just told me! Denying them won't make them disappear, Padme. It'll only hurt you more. It'll hurt _him_...Hurt you _both._ " Sabe looks at her with a somber expression, concern reflecting in her dark eyes.

As much as she doesn't want to admit it, everything her friend is saying is completely accurate. Still, she's stubborn by nature, and doesn't like to lose an argument. She decides to approach this diplomatically. "Okay… let's just say, that maybe – just _maybe_ … I _do_ have feelings for Anakin… it's not going to make a difference. _He lives in Canada!_ "

Brown eyes solemn, Sabe eyes her seriously and shrugs her shoulders. "Then, you're just gonna have to figure out if he's worth the effort or not. That's your choice. But, I'm just afraid that _,_ if you decide not, you'll be making a huge mistake."

Padme doesn't even need to answer that question. It's written all over her face.

 _Yes, he is._

* * *

Canada are playing off against the Netherlands at the end of round sixteen of the men's beach volleyball, and so Padme decides to go and watch Anakin play. They haven't spoken in about three days, and she wants to see him, and show her support for him. Now that she's admitted to herself that she _does_ have feelings for him, she doesn't want to waste a second longer being without him. The Games finish in a few more days, and then they'll both be going back home. Padme _has_ to make the most of every opportunity. She _has_ to tell him how she feels.

Sabe and Dorme go along with her, for moral support. As they enter the outdoor stadium, Padme scans the court to see Anakin and his teammate in a close, serious discussion with their coach, heads bent together. He doesn't notice her, but she doesn't expect him to. This is an important game for him – if they win, they go through to the quarter finals. If they lose, they're finished. Padme bites her nails, her insides squirming nervously, as she watches the game begin.

Anakin seems almost dejected, somehow, as he plays, not as confident and cocky as he was when she first saw him. They go down in the first set 21-14, with the Dutch barely breaking a sweat. Her eyes focus in on his face during half-time, watching as he and his teammate exchange heated words, before he douses himself in water again, shakes his head, then stands up, slaps his thighs twice and steps back out onto the sand.

The second half is better than the first, both Anakin and his teammate making some great plays, and it's neck and neck right up until the last play, where the Dutch scrape through with the winning point. Padme's heart is in her throat as she watches Anakin break down in the middle of the court, crouching to his knees with his head in his hands, and she wants to run to him and hold him in her arms, but knows that she can't. Instead, she simply watches him, feeling his disappointment as if it was her own. The young Canadians were simply outclassed by an older, more experienced Dutch opposition, but it's still devastating nonetheless.

At the end of the game, Padme wanders down to the side of the stadium, waiting for him to appear with his coach and teammate. Once he notices her standing there, he tips his head to the side in confusion and mutters something to his coach, before hurrying over to her.

"You…you watched my game?" he stammers, a little shocked, his voice soft and meek, his eyes wide. But there's this spark of _hope_ shining in their blue depths.

Reaching for his hand, Padme smiles warmly at him and laces her fingers with his. "Of course I did, Anakin. I wanted to come and support you."

He runs his right hand through his damp, sweaty hair, the other clasping her fingers tightly. Drops of perspiration bead along his top lip and between his eyebrows. "B-but, you – you were ignoring me. I thought…I thought you didn't want to see me anymore." He looks confused and deflated, his shoulders slumped, which makes her heart ache.

Shaking her head, she steps closer to him, closing the distance between them, and continues to smile brightly up at him. "I know. I'm sorry…I just panicked. I was… afraid." She releases his hand and rests hers on his shoulders instead, and he moves his to grasp her waist, bending so that his forehead is pressed against hers.

"What are you afraid of, Padme?" he whispers.

"That I'm falling in love with you."

As soon as those words fall from her lips, Anakin's face breaks out into a wild grin, and he laughs, a bewildered sort of laugh, as though this is the single greatest moment of his _entire_ life. "R-really?!" His eyes are shining with happiness as he stares into her own eyes.

Padme nods. "Yes, Anakin," she breathes, and Anakin's response is to crush his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply, fiercely. She meets his kiss with equal enthusiasm, as he lifts her into the air and spins her around a few times. She is giddy with sudden happiness, light and free with the weight of her denial finally off her shoulders.

When he places her back on her feet, his hands move up her back to cup her cheeks, thumbing at her cheekbones. The way he's looking at her, as though she's a precious gem, or even a gold medal herself, makes her feel more adored and cherished than ever before in her life.

"I'm sorry you lost your game," she mutters honestly. As an athlete herself, she knows how devastating it is when you lose something you've worked and trained so hard for.

Anakin just brushes her comment aside with a shake of his head, his nose crinkling adorably as he smiles softly down at her. "It's alright," he tells her, his voice deep and husky. "I've won something much, much better...more important than _any_ medal."

Giggling, she blinks up at him coyly. "And what's that?"

" _You._ _"_ And then he kisses her again, and Padme is barely aware of anything else.

* * *

 _..._

 _Fin_


End file.
